Carling’s eyebrows raised. “Certainly. I can also tell when they are feeling sad or angry, and when they feel dislike or joy. None of these emotions have anything to do with whether or not they have committed, or have conspired to commit murder.”
Niniane ground her teeth and growled. “This is so frustrating. I just spent time with each one—well, except for Arethusa, who’s been busy this evening. I enjoyed each one’s company. They all acted like they liked me.”
“No doubt they do like you, and why wouldn’t they? You are an engaging person.” Carling smiled. “But I have killed someone I liked before. I have killed someone and felt regret. I have also sensed violent emotions from you, but you have not erupted into violent action. Emotions are like colors, Niniane. Thoughts and actions provide structure and purpose to a person. It is only when you put them all together that they begin to form a real picture. The Dark Fae are a complex people, with many years of memory and motivation to influence their actions and ambitions.”
“Okay,” Niniane said. She swallowed wine. “I guess I was looking for a shortcut, and there isn’t one.”
“I’m sorry, no there isn’t.” Carling paused then said, “But now that we have a chance to talk, I would offer you a word of advice about something else.”
“By all means.” Niniane drank more wine. “Please do.”
“I suggest you go carefully with Tiago. All of the Dark Fae are feeling threatened and aggressive about him, except perhaps for Aubrey, whose reaction has been surprisingly low-key.”
Niniane asked, “How has Aubrey reacted?”
“I would say he’s concerned, maybe even troubled, but I have not picked up feelings of aggression from him.”
Did that mean Aubrey was taking Tiago’s presence well, or did that mean he wasn’t too threatened by Tiago’s presence since he planned on killing her anyway? Argh. This kind of thing was going to drive her around the bend. She tossed back the last of her wine.
Carling continued. “I think there is only so far you can take your relationship with Tiago and hope to hold the throne in peace. No Dark Fae will ever tolerate a Wyr as ruler. In fact, I will take that statement further. No other Elder demesne will tolerate it. Power among the United States Elder Races is carefully balanced. The Wyr cannot be seen as taking more than their allotted share.”
“Tiago and I have discussed that,” Niniane said. “He has no interest in the throne.”
“I am not talking about just Tiago,” Carling said. “I am talking about any potential heir.”
Niniane went still. Even her mind stopped working. She said past a sudden rasp in her throat, “You mean any children I might have?”
“Let me be blunt,” Carling said. “You cannot take the throne, have children with Tiago and hope to avoid war, either civil war with the Dark Fae, or war with the other demesnes.”
The restrictive band around her chest was back. She moved carefully to set her wineglass aside and forced herself to take slow deep breaths.
“I take it you have not considered these consequences.” Carling’s voice was gentle.
“I’ve been busy,” Niniane said.
“You could consider a marriage of state,” Carling said. “Have an heir and perhaps a spare, and maintain a private agreement with—”
“No,” said Niniane. Everything in her reacted violently to the thought, and that was without taking into consideration how Tiago would react. He would never allow it. He would kill anyone she might try to marry. “That is not going to happen.”
Carling was silent for a moment. Then she rose to her feet and went to collect the half-empty bottle of wine. She poured more for Niniane and then herself.
“Perhaps you can take your cues from history,” Carling said. “Consider the English. Edward VIII abdicated because his government would never accept Wallis Simpson. To them, marriage meant she would ascend to the throne. Do you think the Dark Fae would accept a marriage between you and Tiago, and trust that he would not also share the throne?”
Niniane drank her wine and stared into space. “No,” she said.
“Then there is Elizabeth I,” Carling said. “I liked Elizabeth. She was a clever woman. She used the possibility of making a marriage by alliance as a diplomatic ploy, but of course she never followed through. If she had lovers, she was so discreet it could never be proven. And no matter how much her parliament pressured her to do so, she never named an heir, so she avoided making her throne vulnerable to a coup.”
At that last, Niniane’s gaze snapped to Carling’s face. The Vampyre’s expression was serene, Madonna-like. She grumbled, “Conversations with you never go as I expect.”
She finished the bottle of wine with Carling then said goodnight and stepped outside. Rune fell into step beside her, and they walked back to her camp. Tiago sat with Cameron and Aryal at the campfire, eating supper. Niniane drank in the sight of Tiago. He sat with his elbows on his knees as he inspected the contents of an open cooler between his feet. He was not participating in Cameron and Aryal’s conversation, but he was listening. He looked burnished. Vitality poured off him, yet he appeared more relaxed and at ease than she could ever remember him looking in New York. Adriyel seemed to suit him.
Then he looked up, caught sight of her, and his relaxation vaporized. He rose to his feet, and his face assumed a hatchetedged aggression. He said in her head, What’s wrong?
She looked at him, affectionate exasperation breaking through her tiredness. How did you know?
Your scent. In two quick strides he was in front of her. He cupped her elbows as he looked down at her in concern. Tell me what’s happened.
Her eyes grew damp. She put a hand to his chest and stroked him. I promise I will tell you all about it very soon, but I am not ready right now. I have to think about some things before I know how to talk about it.
Okay, he said. “Why don’t you sit and have supper? I heard you haven’t eaten yet.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said. “I’m going to turn in.”
His expression darkened. “Faerie.”
She closed her eyes. Don’t push me right now, Tiago.
He put his forehead to hers. I can’t make it better if you don’t talk to me.
Maybe you can’t make this better. Sometimes things just hurt, she said. His hands tightened, and she opened her eyes to be jolted by his fierce stare. She steeled herself and said, I will talk to you soon. Right now I am going to bed. I need to have some time to myself to think, so . . . I need to go to bed alone, please.
His lips parted to reveal clenched teeth, and his Power pressed down on her. She knew it had to go against all of his instincts, but after a moment he eased back. His hold on her elbows loosened. I will be in telepathic range, he said. You are to call me if you have the slightest need, do you hear?
Telepathic range. That meant he would stay within ten or fifteen feet of her. She relaxed and nodded. I love you.
We will have that talk, Niniane, he said.
Soon, I promise.
He let her go and stepped back. The others had fallen silent, appearing to concentrate on their own thoughts as they ate. She nodded to them and stepped inside her tent. It was warm from the brazier where the fire had died down to glowing red coals.
She went straight to her bed, stripped down to her T-shirt and crawled shivering onto the pallet. There she curled into a ball as she waited for the bed to warm. Tiago would have had it warm in seconds. He would have warmed her heart too, in almost every way except for the one that was hurting now.
Nature seemed to compensate for those who were long-lived, and children were correspondingly rare and precious. Added to that, she had never dared to consider having children when her life had been under such constant threat. The possibility of having a child was always a part of some vague, undefined “sometime” in the future.
She had not considered that she might never be able to have children.
She ran through everything Carling had said again. Niniane
could not fault the Vampyre’s logic in the slightest.
The bed warmed but she remained curled in a tight ball. She fell asleep, huddled around that cold internal place.
A shout splintered the cool silence in her head. She bolted into a sitting position as someone shouted again. Heavy footsteps ran past outside.
She shrank back as Tiago tore past the wall hanging, his sword drawn. His face was savage in the shadowed tent. He said, “Get dressed.”
Her heart hammered. “What’s happened?”
“I don’t know.”
She leaped out of bed and slipped on jeans, boots and a sweater. Then she grabbed her stiletto sheaths and jammed them in the pocket of her jeans. As soon as she stood, he took her by the arm and marched outside with her. Cameron stood in front of the tent with a short sword drawn as well. The rest of the camp churned with chaos.
Tiago put an arm around Niniane’s shoulders and clamped her to his side. She put her arms around his waist. Aryal pushed past several frightened attendants who were milling about. The harpy snapped at them, “Get the hell out of the way. Go back to your campsites and stay there until you’re told to do otherwise.”
They took one look at the harpy’s expression and scattered.
Aryal strode toward Tiago, Cameron and Niniane, her raptor’s eyes blistering with adrenaline and anger. The harpy looked ready, even eager, for a fight.
“What?” Tiago barked.
Aryal came to a halt in front of the other three.
She said, “Arethusa’s dead.”
EIGHTEEN
Tiago’s skin was a thin layer containing an inferno of violence. It boiled in the air around him. Cameron gave him a sidelong look and took two steps away. Aryal too kept her distance. Only Niniane moved closer. She leaned against him as if his supercharged aura comforted her.
“What happened?” Niniane asked.
Aryal shook her head, her face grim. “At first glance, it looks like she slipped on some wet rocks down by the riverside, hit her head and fell into the water. One of her troops went looking for her and found her body fifty yards downstream.”
Niniane’s gaze flashed up to meet Tiago’s. She asked him, What do you think?
He shook his head slightly. Arethusa moved like a panther. There is no way in hell she slipped, hit her head and drowned by accident. I don’t believe it.
What do you think we should we do?
He wanted to snatch Niniane up, take to the air and keep flying until he knew he had her in a safe place. He wanted to rampage through the camp and not stop until he found the murderer. His hand clenched on his sword hilt until it shook. He took a slow, careful breath. Rune and Aryal should investigate, he said. We need to know as soon as we can if they can clear Arethusa’s troops, so we know if we can rely on them.
Her gaze searched his face. Then she nodded. Her expression turned calm, and she gave him a squeeze around the waist and stepped away. In a voice pitched to carry some distance, she said to Aryal, “Please do whatever is necessary to verify the details surrounding the Commander’s death.”
“Right,” Aryal said. She pivoted and stalked away.
Niniane looked up at Tiago again. His mouth tightened at the dark circles shadowing the delicate skin under her eyes. She hadn’t rested well before he had awakened her because of whatever the hell was bothering her that he didn’t know about yet, and of course now was not the damn time to ask her about it.
“Would you please follow me?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said. Anywhere.
She paused. A hint of a smile crept into her tired eyes. She said in his head, Would you please put away your sword first?
He looked down at his hand, saw his white-knuckled grip and set his teeth. He growled, I’d rather not.
You are the real weapon, she said. Believe me, nobody doubts it.
“Fine,” he snapped out loud. He reached over his head and slammed the sword into the scabbard strapped to his back. He surveyed the area. The campfire in front of Niniane’s tent was quite public, but he wasn’t about to take a chance with anything. He turned to Cameron. “Guard the tent.”
“Of course,” said the human, her face cop-calm and eyes alert.
Niniane turned and walked through the camp, her small, slender figure erect, and Tiago stalked behind her. He noted how everyone responded to them. They looked at him with varying shades of wariness and alarm, but when they looked at Niniane, their faces eased perceptibly and they calmed.
He didn’t have to see her expression for himself. Niniane was damn good at public interactions.
She was also making straight for the Dark Fae soldiers’ campsite. He said, What are you doing?
I’m doing what needs to be done, she said. I am going to commiserate with and comfort my soldiers. They are not going to see me come to them too late after they have been cleared by Wyr investigators. They need to know I have faith in them. Arethusa picked them for this trip. I’m willing to take a chance on that, especially with you at my back.
His protective instincts were in hyperdrive. Every last one snarled at her plan to go among so many others, but he clamped down on his reaction and examined her reasoning. It was sound. Of course it was. Fuck. He let his tension out in an almost inaudible growl, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. She looked wry, apologetic and determined. He gave her a short nod, his mouth tight. She took a deep breath, turned away and went to talk with her troops.
They were huddled in a miserable tight clump around their campfire. They looked up as Niniane and Tiago approached. He had managed to get himself under better control and schooled his expression to impassivity by the time they grew close. He gave each of the ten soldiers a sharp, quick assessment. Their scents were stressed, and they looked shocked and grieving. A couple wiped surreptitiously at their faces as they all rose to their feet.
Niniane said, “Arethusa’s death is an unimaginable loss, and others are doing what needs to be done. For now I came to share her memory with you, and to tell you how proud she was of each and every one of you.”
She said other things, his faerie, and they were all the right and meaningful things one would say to people who were grieving, but she didn’t really have to. If he knew how to do one thing well, it was how to read soldiers. With those first two sentences, those troops were hers, heart and soul.
Someone brought Niniane a stool, and they stayed with the group and talked about Arethusa until the sky lightened with the first pale streaks of dawn. Niniane made arrangements for the captain to take command until they reached Adriyel proper, where a more permanent arrangement would be made to appoint a new Dark Fae Commander. The captain’s name was Durin, and he was a competent male with a respectful manner.
At last Niniane stood, and of course everyone else stood as well. She was just offering a last few words of encouragement to them when one of the troops sidled unobtrusively to stand behind Tiago. It was the slight, quiet male named Hefeydd, the one responsible for tending the draft horses that hauled the supply wagons.
Tiago was aware, of course. He was aware of everything that happened in the vicinity, aware of every thoughtless gesture, every hand that was raised, every sudden movement. He waited, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet.
A diffident voice spoke in his head. Sir.
Yes? he said. His mental voice was calm. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand.
Commander Arethusa gave me something that I was to give it to you if, well, if something were to happen—No, sir, please don’t turn around! I th-thought you might not mind if I just slipped it into your hand?
Yeah, like that was going to happen, he almost snarled, but then he stopped himself. Hefeydd had been one of the ones with reddened eyes who lingered at the edge of the campfire’s light. The soldier hadn’t added verbally to Arethusa’s impromptu wake, but Tiago had taken note of the grief in the Dark Fae male’s gentle face.
Tiago sighed, put a hand at the small of his back and opened h
is fingers.
A flat leather-wrapped package slid gently against his palm. Even as his fingers closed around it, he sensed Hefeydd moving away.
Tiago tucked the package under his arm as Niniane turned to him at last. If she had looked tired before, now she looked utterly drained, her small face white with exhaustion. He throttled the impulse to scoop her into his arms and carry her away. They had to take such care when they were under others’ scrutiny. He mustn’t do anything that would make her look weak or less than capable in the eyes of her people.
She came over to him, and he had to content himself with putting a gentle supportive hand at her back. He shortened his stride to match hers as they picked their way through the shadowed encampment.
Back at Niniane’s tent, Cameron still kept watch. Tiago’s sharp gaze ran over the human woman’s figure. Cameron looked tired but alert, her tall, slim figure held erect. He raised his eyebrows at her and she gave him a nod. She said to them, “I made coffee, if you want some.”
Niniane shook her head, wordless. He held the tent flap for her as he said to Cameron, “I’ll take a cup.”
He followed Niniane, who came to a halt in the tent’s sitting area. The brazier contained fresh coals, which warmed the area, and the lamps were lit. He dropped the leather package by one of the wooden chairs. Niniane turned to him. He pulled her into his arms and knew a fierce sense of relief as her small body nestled against his.
She buried her face in his chest. He stroked her silken black hair. “I am so proud of you,” he told her.
“Don’t be nice to me,” she said, muffled against him. “Or I might bawl like a baby.”
He cupped the back of her head with a protective hand. “You go ahead and cry if you need to,” he whispered.
The tent flap rose and Cameron stepped in, carrying a metal cup full of steaming hot coffee. She hesitated when she saw them but then stepped forward to set the coffee by the nearest chair before turning to go.
Niniane lifted her head. “Do we know anything yet?”
Cameron said, “Sorry, not yet. The last I heard Rune and Aryal had finished examining the area and were canvassing the camp.”
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